What's the Story, Morning Glory?
by nurgle.devoutee
Summary: After Sirius's death, Morning Glory extract allows Harry to escape to a world where magic is lovely and nothing hurts. But Luna is real and she is waiting for him for him to come back
1. Motiv8

**Motiv8**

Dust motes danced through the air as the bright sun peeked from behind dark curtains. The air was still, stale. Remnants of sleep eked through his body. His toes cracked, his back popped; he'd just slept twelve hours, but he wanted twelve more.

 _There are things worth dying for_ , he thought. Sleep was one of them. The alarm clock blared beside him... he'd beaten the clock again.

His fist smashed into it. The blaring was an offense to sensible hearing.

Harry Potter put on his glasses and went to take a shower, all thoughts of sleep left in the comfort of his bed.

Steam was thick in the air, suffocating. Harry stood in front of the vanity and cleared the fog from the glass of the mirror.

The water ran cold before he decided to get out. A fugue permeated his body, making things like being normal or waking up a foreign idea. He couldn't shake the fuzz.

His mind wandered back to his dreams last night.

Fleeting, powerful, magical. He was the _One_.

The one controlling his own destiny. The face that stared back at him now was nothing but a mockery. Tired eyes, bloodshot behind round, plain rimmed glasses. Above all, the face that looked back at him was judging.

Harry reached forward and popped the door of the hidden vanity mirror, and it opened without a fuss. This was his bathroom now, so there were some of his personal effects left inside. He'd moved in, for once, since he'd been given free reign of the house. He pulled out eye drops, and leaned his head back to administer them. The cool liquid soothed his sore eyes and dulled the ache behind his teeth. The medicine cabinet closed with a snap.

"Pull yourself together man. We've got shit to do."

Number Four was quiet this morning. It had been quiet every day for the past month since he'd been home. The Dursleys decided to take a vacation without telling him, their only note a chore list left pinned to the fridge.

Harry eyed the list,then dismissed it without a second thought as he opened the fridge and broke out the orange juice. It was his favorite brand. Or rather it was Dudley's. The thought of drinking something that fat twat liked made the tangy, slightly bitter drink go down smoothly as he prepared some toast to settle his stomach.

He put the empty juice container back into the ice chest, and planned his day. He'd received a letter the other day from Hermione. It seemed she and Ron had holed up somewhere safe, somewhere they couldn't tell him about—somewhere secret. The small book Hermione had sent clearly displayed the passage of time since they'd last spoken.

" _Remus is coming to get you very soon, Harry. We'll finally be able to explain everything once you get here! I'm sorry, but I can't say more until then. It's not my secret to tell."_

A secret. A secret which implied something grand. Something great. It couldn't be Grimmauld Place. Sirius was dead, and the right to his ancestral home contested, even if no one but the Order remembered its existence.

The wind picked up outside. Aunt Petunia's Morning Glories danced beyond the windowpane. Maybe a bit of gardening was in order.

After all, it was on the chore list.

Outside, Harry's hands dug into the rich earth. The loamy smell of nettles and dirt clouded his nose. It was still early in the suburbs, which was caught in the stupor of weekend. Not a single car moved on the street, and not a single dog stirred from their kennel.

The blues of the flowers were vibrant in the early morning sunlight. A hint of dew on the delicate, fluted throats of the Morning Glories. Harry could swear that as he tended them, the blooms moved closer to his fingers, the vines twining about his thumb-

Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. Magic where there was no magic. Something he took for granted.

The hustle and bustle of school and the magical world in general was but a fever dream to him at this point. There were many thoughts he should be having, but he was too busy with his gardening to think them. Why should he? It wasn't his problem.

A flash of anger. Quick and bright. He tasted bile in the back of his throat, and his hands clutched harder at the ground. _It wasn't his problem._ A breeze tickled the back of his neck and just as quickly as his anger came, it was gone and he was back to gardening.

His plants looked lively today. Petunia only thought they were hers, but he'd tended them since he'd bought the seeds from the apothecary. While not a magical species themselves, the seeds of Morning Glories had many other magical uses, as an additive first and foremost. Professor Sprout said that they were used in various potions of the mind, that they could help a wizard learn more about himself.

He had learned a lot about himself in the past few weeks.

Harry scooped the smile pile of seeds from the ground in front of him, pocketing them. The sun was up even higher now, peaking in from behind the treetops of the the Dursley's back garden.

He was thirsty, he decided. A drink was in order, and maybe a snack.

Potions was never Harry's forte. He would admit it to anyone who asked. Unlike some people, he wouldn't compare the process to cooking at all. There was a difference between grinding seeds into a fine powder and frying an egg. And while he was a decent cook, a potion master he was not.

But he could learn.

When he didn't have someone breathing down his neck, he could make a decent distillate. The clear liquid simmered in his pewter cauldron as he spread the finely ground seed powder across the top and let that seep into the liquid. He turned the heat up and watched as the liquid frothed and bubbled and visibly reduced. Stirring to fully incorporate the powder.

What was liquid before turned into a fine paste. The seeds were broken down, rendered into their constituent chemical parts. The heat turned off, he spooned the paste from the cauldron into a fine cloth and pushed any remaining moisture from it. He kept that in a small vial off to the side.

His actions were rote, practiced, and automatic. There was no flair, only the end result. The paste, he had spread wafer thin over the copper sheet in front of him, allowing it to cool and harden. It would be ready for consumption in a few hours.

Task completed, Harry allowed himself to sit in a tattered chair in the corner of his room. A blanket over the ripped arms of the chair and you would never know that it was anything else.

In front of him sat a fine china pot and a steaming cup. The afternoon sunlight streaked through the open blinds of his window. Memories of iron bars baring the way long since forgotten.

Cool air filtered in, rustling some of the loose papers in his room - homework assignments completed and other such debris. The scowling face of Cornelius Fudge glared at him from under Hedwig's cage, some of her droppings sitting square on his forehead.

From his shirt pocket, Harry pulled out a thin manila packet and plucked a wafer from its interior. The bitter taste on this tongue made his face pucker, but a quick swish of tea took care of that.

With a sigh, he pulled a book from the side carrier on the old chair and leaned back - he had some Charms reading to catch up on.

Hours later, the sun had just begun its descent below the horizon. Harry stood outside now, having long abandoned his reading when the morning glory had taken effect.

It was gradual. Something that creeped.

But his awareness grew from himself to everything. Even in the waning light of the sun he could see clearly the details of the neighborhood.

As the day birds danced through the trees and settled for the night, as small animals sought burrows underground from the chill of the evening, Harry Potter came alive. There was a smile on his face, one that if observed by someone that knew him, would seem misplaced. The incandescent sphere off in the distance flared bright, a nova to his eyes, spiraling ever upwards as its fight with the horizon consumed it and darkness took its place.

Harry was never a toothsome child. He smiled when he was happy, but the grin that cut his face was ear to ear and sharp with teeth. There was a manic beauty that he otherwise lacked. A deep inhale and the sharp tang of cooling asphalt hit his nose. There was moisture in the air - it would be raining by morning. He held off on walking to the park under the dim light of the street lamps, opting instead to go to the back garden where a nice green snake lived in Aunt Petunia's roses.

It was an excellent conversationalist.

Like clock work when he made it around back, his little friend was there waiting, bisected by a beam of moonlight.

In the far off distance an owl made a sound as it jumped from tree to tree beginning its nightly routine. A crack of displaced air went off down the street and the patter of shoe tread on concrete made itself known - their steps stopped at the gate for Number Four, there was a group of five.

One of them moved through the gate and knocked at the front door.

Three tight rapts of the door knocker. There was no answer, and not even a hint of sound came from inside the house. The gruff looking man in the front pulled a wand, his face going from grim to grimmer.

With the scars decorating his face the grimace that usually adorned his face morphed into a scowl. He made eyes with two of the members of the group and gave a silent command to split up. They parted ways, their actions practiced.

A whispered spell and the lock on the door gave way to the grizzled wizard as the remaining two followed them into the house.

Their first impression was that it was empty. There wasn't a sound to indicate anyone was home, but it looked like there was someone there. A brown haired wizard fingered the chore list on the fridge with a frown - Remus had heard stories, but he had never received confirmation about what Harry's life was like with the Dursleys.

There was a snap elsewhere in the house and an ornate clock on the wall chimed the time. Nine chimes later the vacuum of silence that filled the room made everything seem even louder.

Everyone drew wands however when the youngest of the group tripped over a decorative vase in the corner of the room.

"Tonks!" the older wizard snarled.

"I'm telling you, it came from nowhere! Sorry, boss."

Moody's posture didn't change, nor did he acknowledge the young witches words. "Anyone remember where the twins said the boy's room was?"

"Up the stairs, first door on the left," Remus said already moving up the steps.

It was a tight fit with the three of them in the hallway. In the dim light of Tonks' wand they could make out the locks and the cat flap on the door - Remus's eyes hardened, a tick forming at his jaw.

Moody's charm snapped all the locks open at once. Remus opened the door.

There were papers everywhere. Books, clothes. Definitely lived in, but no sign of Harry or struggle. Remus turned to the others. "He knew we were coming - Ms. Granger said she told him. It's not like him to just wander off."

"If it's wandering he's doing, I'm going to have words with the boy. With things the way they are, he'd be out of his mind to leave this house," Moody said.

"He's a kid, Alastor," Tonks said. "He'd go stark raving mad if he never went outside."

There was a flash of light then and a silvery animal came up and whispered something to Moody.

"Kingsley says he's in the back garden. We should go."

The quick stomp of Moody's wooden leg and fluttering pages of open books were the only indication of the group's haste. Remus lead the charge, using urgency to curb his inner panic. "What could he possibly be doing out there? At this hour?" Maybe he was worrying for nothing. He dearly hoped so.

The group breached the back door.

Remus shifted focus, his eyes taking in everything.

Moonlight streamed through the trees but otherwise there was no other source of light. Harry Potter sat in the center of the garden, a garden snake wrapped around his shoulders, eyes closed.

Moody limped over to Kingsley with a gruff, "Report." But Remus didn't spare it an ear, fully focused on the boy's appearance.

His face was flush but that could've been the shadows, lips moving as if he was murmuring to himself. A soft whispering hiss filling the air around all of them. Melodic and rhythmic. When it stopped abruptly, everyone startled. To Remus with his werewolf enhanced hearing there was a distinct lack of sound everywhere. No crickets, no road noise, no wind through the trees, yet he still felt a chill on his skin.

The green snake that adorned Harry's shoulders took its time leaving, moving silently down his arm and out to the yard at large. No one moved. No one dared breath. They were waiting for a reaction, anything to let them know what was going on.

Being high was a novel experience. There was a category of people that enjoyed talking about such things. Harry could see why - it lent itself to a unique experience - if one had never been high, then how does one understand the ramblings of a person who has? His mind felt open, awake. There was a flame of desire in his body now to just _be._

His body felt like a hindrance. A meat bag prison keeping him trapped. Harry didn't want to die, but he lamented how his body held him back.

His eyes had fallen shut. Hector was quiet; the lulling hiss escaping Harry's mouth had put the young snake into a trance. Harry pushed at the boundaries of his own mind, hoping to break free. With a tearing feeling, his consciousness drifted upwards - like climbing through a dark tunnel. At the end of it there was light.

Harry hit the brightness at a metaphorical run. The light, it took his breath away. There was so much of it, everything illuminated. He saw his own body, and around it a corona. Around each living thing, there was a corona.

He saw where his and Hector's intersected, and he saw the young snake as it drifted back and forth.

It was a different spectrum, a different level of being. It took his breath away. He realized how quickly his own chest rose and fell. Like he'd just ran a long distance sprint - but with none of the tiredness.

He didn't know how long this state lasted. Time passed strangely, offering no frame of reference. The light was not normal sunlight. There were no shadows. Everything was light-washed, contrasting imperceptibly.

The wizards apparating in at the end of the drive were like signal flares on a cloudy night for Harry, bright spheres of concentrated light - he watched their approach. At first two, then five stood around him. They were familiar so he felt no rush in greeting them. He would talk to them in his own time.

Now, he chose to savor the few last minutes of joy. The only thing he could equate the feeling to was when Madam Pomfrey had given him a calming draught on the night of Sirius's death. But where before he was detached, ambivalent, here he was connected, vibrant, _alive_.

One of the lights knelt in front of his sitting body. No sound, only his heartbeat rushing in his ears. If they spoke he wouldn't be able to hear them, so with resignation he decided that he shouldn't make them wait any longer. They were here for a reason.

"Harry. You need to answer me now." Remus' panicked voice was the first thing he heard as his consciousness settled back into his body. He stank of fear and tiredness and regret.

Harry's nostrils flared for a moment, his lungs taking their first full deep breath in nearly an hour. He shuddered a bit as the oxygen hit his blood stream. That was concerning, but not overly so. He'd think about it later.

"Hello, Remus. Sorry to keep you lot waiting. I was traveling."

"Traveling, Harry? Traveling where?" Watching the man's face shift from concern, fear, to incredulity was amusing to Harry. He wanted to keep it up, but quickly the man's emotions focused and all that was left was anger. "Harry, so help me god, if you've been drinking, Molly's going to wring both our necks."

"No, nothing like that. I've just been meditating. It's very relaxing. Dumbledore told me to learn how to clear my mind, and sitting here in the garden's the best way I've found. I do it each night before bed."

"You knew we were coming." Another voice from off to the side this time - Remus stood from his crouched position in front of Harry. A pixie haired woman stood off to a familiar scarred face. Moody then. His outline was unmistakable even in poor lighting.

Harry cocked his head. "How have you been, Tonks?"

He found his own feet, standing up and taking in everyone else. Kingsley, Emmeline Vance, Tonks, Moody, and Remus.

"Didn't know I was gonna have this big of a welcoming party. Tea anyone? I've got a fresh pot upstairs. You can have some while I pack."

Harry wasn't in the mood for conversation. He just said what he thought he was supposed to say, his mind preoccupied. He was going to leave the Dursleys for the summer. To go where? He didn't know yet. What wonders would his sixth year hold? He had so many things to prepare for. Like NEWTs, if he even made it that far. He had to get class books.

Stepping into his bedroom, he paid no mind to the mess and started piling things into his trunk. Tonks came in behind him - it looked like the group had chosen her to be the spokesperson - and said, "Let me."

With a shrug he sat in his chair, picked up his tea cup and idly swirled it.

A swish and a flick from Tonks and all of his stuff folded it self neatly - mostly - and placed itself into his trunk. "My mother taught me this. Best thing, really. Makes cleaning up a breeze."

Harry nodded his head, still eyeing his swirling tea.

"Look k-," She hesitated. "Look Harry. Are you really okay? You know you can come to us if you need anything, right?"

His mind was elsewhere, he imagined he saw something in the dregs of his cup, but couldn't quite place it. He wasn't Trelawney after all. His ears rang - as he looked around his room all of his things were gone, packed away neatly in his trunk - he watched as it disappeared through the door, the young witch leading the way.

Maybe his lack of response was rude. He knew that Tonks was talking to him - he knew of the concern. It wasn't that he was deaf, he was just uninterested in what she had to say.

He'd spent nearly his entire summer break with no human interaction. Harry was used to his own thoughts, he knew himself better now than he ever did - the alone time had been good for him in more ways than one.

He knew that he was going to have to get his mind around being with the others soon, wherever they were taking him. With a sigh, he stood and made his way down the stairs.

The others stood huddled around the front door, Tonks whispering to Remus, he couldn't make out what she said, but the look on Remus face told the story. No doubt Tonks assumed he was depressed - before the evening was up he knew he would have to prepare for a heartfelt conversation with Remus, among others.

They all noticed him then. Moody was the first to speak. "Ready boy? We've got a strict schedule to keep and I have no time to waste. You follow the lead of the lass there and everything will be fine." He pivoted on his good leg. "Remus, take point. I'm going to make sure we're not followed."

Harry turned to Tonks then, "So, how are we getting there? Knight Bus? Broomstick? Dragon?" There was a hint of a smile on his face now - he was well versed in Moody's travel tactics having experienced them last year.

"We'll, we're going to go a bit by broom, so I left yours out," Harry noticed his firebolt in the corner at this point. How thoughtful of her. "And then we're going to do some group apparition and we'll be there shortly, it's not too far so hopefully you won't get too sick- Remus said you've never apparated before... "

"The twins seem to enjoy it, so it can't be that bad. Well, right-o, lead the way."

Out of sight of everyone Harry pulled another wafer from his shirt pocket, if he was going to have to suffer the monotony of travel then he was going to enjoy it.

He found an out of the way spot, and threw it in his mouth, chewing it to get it down quickly. Harry didn't have time to let it dissolve. He could hear Remus footsteps as the older man circled back, he hastily tucked it securely back in his shirt pocket.

He smiled at Remus, the very image of innocence.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him, but otherwise didn't comment. Instead he turned to Tonks and asked, "Everyone ready?"

"Oh sure, I was just giving Harry a bit of the travel plan. We're ready now. She tapped Harry's trunk with her wand and it shrunk - she tossed it to the boy and he put it in his pocket without a word.

Harry, bolstered by his next high, bounded down the stairs and rushed out the house. His movements were one smooth action as he mounted his broom and brought himself to level with Kingsley and Emmeline with very little effort.

Remus and Tonks struggled to match his pace, he watched Tonks as she stumbled onto her broom and brought herself shakily into the air. Remus was much more composed as he took point at the head of the group.

The rest formed a diamond pattern around Harry, he could see each of them with their wands out. They expected complications.

He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. Harry was excited. Remus voice sounded directly in his ear like the man was right beside him, but he'd not changed his position at the head of the group.

"Alright, Moody isn't flying, he said he's going to apparate behind us and cover our trail. Stay close, and no joy riding." With that he turned, darting off into the distance.

Harry brought his own broom around, shooting after him.

His excitement had waned, when hours later, they were still flying. Harry basked in the cool air against his skin, and the roar of the wind in his ears. His senses were spread out as far as he could manage and still keep control of his broom. It was exhilarating being high in the air, his feet skimmed the tops of the clouds as Remus took them higher.

London shined brightly in the distance.

The meandering pace, in Harry's opinion, was due for a change, and it seemed Remus agreed as he gestured for them to move faster. Harry compiled as he watched him lean into his broom, Harry mirrored the mans movements easily keeping pace. He'd flown much faster before - he fought to reign himself in and to totally out pace Remus.

Their speed melded the bright lights and echoing sounds sirens into a muted tapestry of urban misery. Harry took it all in with a blink.

It was beautiful, speed and distance adding bias. The dispersion of lights spread like a fungus through the city center and out into the smaller areas, growing weaker as they moved further away.

The organic nature in which it spread gave Harry the distraction he needed, and soon a sharp whistle from Remus brought him back into focus - just in time too, as he nearly crashed into Remus, who had stopped completely.

He swerved to avoid the man, braking hard, and circling back.

"Alright there Harry?" Remus asked as Harry drew close enough to speak without the aid of magic.

"Just caught in the view," Harry said.

His eyes dismissed the man in front of him to look back at the fading lights of the city. The corona of light domed out like the edge of the sun.

"We're going to land here." Remus gestured at a empty playground lit by a lone street light below.

"Then we're going to apparate the rest of the way. I'll be taking you along since I'm the most experienced out of all of us when it comes to side-along."

Harry watched the man's eyes widen as he remembered something important. " Oh, and one more thing."

Remus flew closer to Harry and handed him a slip of parchment. "Our location."

If disappointment was a taste, Harry's mouth was full of it right now. His heart rate had settled, and he'd neared the edge of his high. He should be more enthused he knew, because at least where he was going was familiar.

A flash of worry wormed its way into his mind. 'They'd be targets from now on.' he thought as his eyes bored through the piece of parchment in front of him. However he didn't let that diminish the smile on his face. It would be good to see his friends again.

There was no use worrying, they were their own people, and it was their decision to make. He could only honor their commitment by not second guessing it.

Despite his acceptance, the parchment in his hands bursting into flames in his hands told a different story. The others had already disappeared beyond the cloudline, Remus looked back once, but he missed the flaming parchment. Because he said nothing when Harry landed next to him on the ground.

The man placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder, and with a crack of displaced air they were gone.

 _The Burrow can be found in Ottery St. Catchpole._


	2. Harry's Heart

**Harry's Heart**

It was quiet when they landed outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. Moody, in his paranoia, wanted to end the trip in a convoluted hike around the area. The Auror's catch phrase wasn't Constant Vigilance for nothing. Harry's mood darkened as his ankles were scratched raw from the underbrush. The Burrow was under fidelius, wasn't it? Then it didn't matter if Voldemort himself saw them waltz into the property, the Dark Lord, like everyone else, wouldn't know which house they walked into.

As they approached the vast tract of farmland, Harry's vision flickered, a haphazardly built farmhouse sitting squat in the middle revealing itself. It was idyllic, if quaint. The house, the trees; they all appeared as happy accidents.

It made him smile to see something familiar. Harry had enjoyed his alone time, and yet he supposed there was a reason why the words 'alone' and 'lonely' were related. He just hoped that he could get in without them bombarding him with questions. There was a time and a place for that and it was very far from here.

A dim glow spilled across the grass from the kitchen window. Dark silhouettes stood around the windows, one breaking away when Moody banged his fist against the side door. The knock was an alternating rhythm, clearly a code, but the door was thrown open mid-sequence. Molly Weasley looked quite cross.

"Merlin's sake, Alastor! Give an old woman a heart attack, why don't you."

Her words broke the dam. Figures poured past her and into the yard - a jumble of redheads and others Harry couldn't quite make out in the dark. Two in particular made their way to him, bypassing the adults: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, their expressions bright and sparkling. Ron, with his usual dopey grin; Hermione, her wild hair moving with a manic energy of its own. Before he could get a word in, she threw her arms around his neck, holding him close.

From the press of her against him, he felt every curve of her body. Had she always been this filled out?

"Oh Harry, I've missed you," she whispered, drawing back to stand beside Ron.

Even in the dim lighting of the Burrow, Harry could see the red tinge of his cheeks. He couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment from Hermione's display of affection. The warm feeling of Hermione against his chest quickly erased any other thought he had.

"Hey guys," Harry said, smiling, the blessing of the morning glories taking the edge off the rightful impatience and anger and nervousness he felt in the back of his mind. He had his questions. But right now, he was simply glad to be with his friends again. "How are things?"

They didn't say much. Instead, the three of them went quiet, listening as the adults conversed around them. Remus, with a small gesture, jogged back into the house. Tonks worked her way through the crowd, doling out eager hugs, before getting caught in a laughing fit with the twins.

Slowly, chatter died down and an air of expectancy took its place.

Mrs. Weasley laid eyes on Harry and the worry lines in her forehead smoothed.

"Harry, dear, you look stick thin! Let's get some dinner in you. We expected you hours ago, but, well, with Alastor being involved I should've expected... never mind. Come on now!"

She turned back into the house, everyone filtering in behind her.

Harry and his best friends held back. Hermione's teeth worried at her bottom lip. She waited until the yard was clear before speaking.

"I'm so glad you're here Harry. You have no idea how hard it's been not being able to write to you. Dumbledore said we shouldn't, so the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to intercept anything. I hope you didn't think we forgot about you - "

Harry held his hands up, taken aback by verbal barrage.

"Easy there, I'm fine. Its okay. To be honest, I enjoyed the peace and quiet - even got some summer homework out of the way."

Ron made a face at the mention of schoolwork.

"Mate, don't tell me you've turned into _her_. I've not even started mine!"

"There's nothing wrong with taking your education seriously!" said Hermione. "You should learn from Harry's example, Ron. He made the best of his time, while you - you haven't even looked at a book, have you? Why not? It's not as if you can go outside and play quidditch."

It wasn't an argument so much as it was a well-worn pattern of sounds. It was familiar. Comforting. Harry shook his head fondly.

Molly stuck her head out the door. "You three! Come inside, everyone's waiting on you all."

"Coming Mum! We were just talking!" said Ron. He shrugged at Harry and ran for the door. Rolling her eyes, Hermione stalked after him at a more controlled pace, leaving Harry to trail behind her.

Before stepping into the house Harry looked back towards the sky and stared up at Orion. Out in the countryside, far from the city lights, the sky expanded around him. He inhaled deeply - the smell of nature, family, friends and home all tickling at his nose. An unknown tension in his shoulders evaporated.

Harry sighed and closed the door behind him, blocking all the beauty that laid illuminated by the moon and the stars from his eyes.

The scent of anise, cloves, onions, and roasting meat made his stomach grumble. Harry had watched Mrs. Weasley prepare dinner. Her movements were practiced and efficient. Nothing wasted. A flick of her wand had various ingredients preparing themselves and pans sizzling over the flaming stove.

Harry stepped into the dining room proper, unlike the kitchen which seemed to be the center of the bottom floor, the dining room looked haphazard, distorted from what was conventional.

Everyone must have been starving because the sounds of clanking silverware and eating was a distinct contrast to the dearth of conversation. Louder than words, it pressed against his ears. Like a song played on a badly tuned instrument. Noticeable. Wrong.

Cutlery settled on plates with a clatter. As more and more people took notice of him. The table looked hastily constructed - Bill's handy work - but served its purpose to accommodate everyone.

The extra leaves added to the table weighed heavy with the fruit of Molly's labours in the kitchen. She knew how to feed an army.

At the far end sat the silver-haired Fleur clutching Bill by the elbow. She was leaning into him and whispering, wearing the sort of smile that suggested she was all too aware and all too pleased by the image they made.

Harry's stomach fluttered as she looked up and made eye contact with him. Unlike Ron, who was all but drooling, Harry didn't feel lust so much as awe. It was her symmetry. Large blue eyes, one a copy of the other, precisely equidistant from the nose. The delicate curve of her ear, her toned neck. Perfection.

She raised an eyebrow at him, as if to invite him to say something. Harry shook his head and released himself from his stupor. Looking elsewhere along the table there were faces he didn't know but he was sure he would soon - he had nothing but time after all.

Ron's eyes drifted a millimetre from Fleur to Harry, whose position at the doorway put him directly behind her.

"Harry!" he said, scrambling to his feet like he'd been splashed with cold water, his fork hitting the ground. He gestured at a spot between him and Hermione. "Over here mate, we saved you a space."

Rons words were loud and echoing across the confined room. But his words seemed to have broken a dam as everyone else resumed a much more normal pace of eating, some leaning back to converse with their partners across the table.

Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement as he made his way towards them, not wanting to draw further attention to himself. As he passed Remus, the man broke from his chat with Tonks and reached to give him a pat on the back, his look deliberate. A reminder. ' _I'm here.'_

The rumbling in Harry's stomach disappeared, his mouth turned to ash and his heart rate increased. Was it necessary - bringing up Sirius like that? No, Remus hadn't said anything, but Harry knew what that look meant.

Harry gave the man a tight smile. Remus gaze never faltered, his hand firm on Harry's arm. He seemed to recognize Harry's discomfort though, as he gave his arm a more gentle squeeze and released him.

For Harry the dulled edges of reality were becoming crisper by the minute. His reaction to Remus was symptomatic of a larger problem. His high was wearing off. That complicated things for him. Having a breakdown at the dinner table wouldn't do him any favors. He didn't need coddling.

He sat heavily between Ron and Hermione, the air escaping him like a deflating ball. He kept his hands below to the table to hide the tremors, not trusting himself to pick up a glass of water to quench his parched mouth.

Ron and Hermione started speaking on both sides of him immediately, but he wasn't engaged. His eyes roamed the dinner table, looking for a way to escape. Harry plotted the quickest course he could to the loo.

Hermione loaded a plate of his favorites up for him and placed it in front of him. She nudged him gently - Harry turned to look at her, but couldn't keep his eyes focused directly on her. The concern pouring off her body was suffocating.

More plates of food floated in from the kitchen. Ron silenced in mid-conversation in awe. He grabbed a plate as it passed in front of him, greedily filling his own plate further. The rate in which he put away food caused Hermione to shoot him a look of disgust - Ron remained oblivious. To Harry it was like a trainwreck he couldn't look away from, he wanted to, but it served to draw his eye even further.

He felt green at the gills. He imagined this was what seasickness felt like - the room swam slightly around the edges of his vision. The acuity serving only to cause his stomach further turmoil.

Hermione cleared her throat and stared at him. In an effort to save himself from having to talk much, he asked a simple, but effective question.

"Who are all these people?" Harry said, gesturing at the table at large. If he could get Hermione talking about that, then she wouldn't focus on him.

Hermione paused her eating, thinking slowly.

"New recruits. The old HQ is compromised what with… Sirius' unfortunate passing." Harry had to give her credit, she caught her stammer, before she continued.

"There was a bit of a scuff up at the inheritance office when Draco Malfoy tried to lay claim to House Black and all its property - which this is a story for another time - but suffice to say, Grimmauld Place is locked down until the final verdict has been delivered."

Ron chose then to speak, his mouth thankfully empty, "Yeah, Dumbledore's been in and out. He decided that we would be better suited here, something about hiding in plain sight - and with the fidelus no one remembers where the Burrow is anyway." Ron jabbed a spoon full of mash into his mouth.

Hermine picked up where he left off. "Over there is Emmeline Vance, and Sturgis Podmore. They were some of the first members of the Order -"

Harry tuned Hermione's words out as she continued filling him in. She was in her element. He spared the effort for a small smile as he picked at the peas on his plate. His tremors had settled, but his stomach still felt like shit.

"Mum's been going mental with all the people," Ron said past a mouthful. "But I don't think I've ever seen her this happy - Fred and George think she's been nipping into the Ogden's."

"It's because your family is all here, Ron," Hermione said.

"Your Mum's told me and Ginny multiple times, in fact - that she couldn't be happier having everyone under one roof again. Bill and Charlie haven't been here in years."

"And Fleur?" Harry asked

Hermione was quick to respond. "Fleur is trying to find her place."

Ron laughed at Hermione's delicate choice of words. "She can't cook, and she's driving everyone starkers. Don't let Hermione fool ya mate, she's being nice about it. I heard Ginny say something about introducing her to the bat bogey hex. She's not all that bad though. I happen to like her."

Hermione flushed lightly. "Well it's not like you can stop gawking at her Ronald. Or talk to her for that matter? The way you act a fool around her is about as disgusting as your eatings habits."

"But I- I don't stare," he said.r. "Do I? And we've talked plenty of times." His face flushed redder than Hermione's.

Harry laughed. The volume of it startled those around him. Hermione's face turned even more red while Ron gaped at Hermione. The lack of self-control scared Harry - his forehead damp with a light sheen of sweat. He needed to get away from here, quickly.

He stood up and made his excuses to Ron and Hermione before heading to the loo. He'd let them sort out their feelings themselves, he wasn't here to play mediator - or whatever it was transpiring between the two of them.

He made it up the stairs as quickly as he could and locked the door tightly behind him. Harry splashed some water onto his face from the tap, washing the grit and tiredness from his eyes. His hands shook more as the tremors consumed him. His body ached, his bones felt cold. The climb up to the first landing hadn't done this to him - coming down was hard, and better done when he was asleep.

"You look terrible dear," chimed the mirror. "Better eat some greens and get some rest. You're lookin' a bit peaky."

The extract from the seeds wasn't addictive. The method behind his distillation rendered it into some of the purest chemicals he could get his hands on. The euphoria and associated bliss - that was the killer. When he came down, it was like a drain opened up at the bottom of his feet - his energy draining out below him. A plug fallen out of a socket.

The world was a muted mess of drab colors and loss.

He didn't need the mirror to tell him he looked like shit. He was surprised no one else had noticed it, or if they did, hadn't made a comment.

He wobbled a bit, becoming light headed, and used the sink to steady himself again. What irked him the most was he could tell everyone was walking on eggshells around him. He didn't need to be handled with kid gloves. He wasn't a bomb about to explode.

Nobody was acting right. Humans were predictable and Harry found peace in that. And how could there be peace in uncertainty? The very idea was paradoxical. Laughable. At this rate, he wasn't going to have a moment's rest, was he?

He didn't feel like socializing. He didn't feel like eating.

Why hadn't Hermione started pestering him about continuing the DA yet? Ron should've tried to rope Harry into a game of chess before he even stepped foot in the house. Harry needed a catalyst. Something to make his excuses against, allowing him to escape to the bedroom he shared with Ron.

He couldn't pardon himself. His friends would come after him. "What's wrong, Harry?" "How are you _feeling_ , Harry?"

If he was going to spend time around everyone he had to act normal.

He sighed.

Harry popped half a wafer onto his tongue. The bitter taste jump-started the feeling of happiness in his brain. A small dose. He would be able to hold a conversation without losing himself.

Rinsing his mouth, he wiped droplets from his face and braced himself for the awaiting battlefield. The bathroom door opened with a creak.

Back downstairs dessert had been served. Mrs. Weasley had arrived and was talking to Bill and Fleur at the end of the table. Harry took his place easily between Ron and Hermione again. They'd resolved themselves to ignoring each other it looked like.

Hermione leaned in close and whispered to him, "Are you okay? Your scar?"

Harry jerked. He gripped the edges of his seat as he settled himself into his chair. "I'm fine. Just had to use the loo."

And with that he dug into his meal. Ron and Hermione resumed their small talk and no one interrupted their little bubble throughout the entire meal. Harry savored the moment.

His nerves had settled so things were a lot more enjoyable.

Once he'd had his fill he sat back at the seat and just let the atmosphere wash over him.

There was a rhythm to the household. One that signified friends, family, acceptance. Safety. It was nice; he'd missed the security of others.

Everyone else finished their meal and broke off. The floo flared as some left for the evening - they had jobs to go to the next day. Tonks was the first to go citing Rufus Scrimgeour for her early departure - the man was a stickler for punctuality.

Tonks gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. "If you need anything kid, I'm just a fire call away. Don't hesitate. After all, we're family."

"Will do, Tonks. Thanks."

She winked and left in a bout of green flame.

Remus settled himself in the sitting room with a nightcap. Distantly, Harry heard Ron yelling at the twins for locking his bedroom door, his feet stomping across the top landing. Ginny was somewhere offering to brush Hermione's hair.

Claiming the loveseat across the fireplace, Harry watched the flames dance and he began feeling a mote of irritation but he couldn't place why. Remus was adjacent to him. Ice clinked as the man placed his glass on the sofa arm. Agitation creased the skin at the corner of Remus's eyes. He swallowed preparing himself for battle.

"Harry, I want to talk to you." He paused, " I don't know the best way to say this."

Remus hesitation was amusing yet frustrating. He wasn't some beaten puppy, he wouldn't' bite.

He felt slighted at the presumption but chose to say nothing. Harry wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. There were many thoughts left to be had this night before morning came and he wanted to enjoy them.

"Yes?" He prompted.

Remus took another sip of his drink as if to fortify himself. "What was that at the Dursleys', why were you outside in the middle of the night? Are you doing something I should know about?"

"Doing?" Harry could see his one word responses were getting to the man. His agitation was palpable.

"Look, Harry, I won't play around. Tonks seems to think you're abusing something, and I tend to agree. I know it's not the drink, so what is it?

"It's nothing Remus, I'm not abusing anything." This line of questioning was not unexpected but it was off putting. Harry hadn't taken the time to come up with a defense, but he also hadn't expected someone to ask him so directly.

"I'm not sure you're being honest with me, Harry," Remus said, leaning forward in his seat. "You stink of sweat. You looked like you were going to pass out at the dinner table. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone. Your pupils are the size of galleons right now. I wasn't born yesterday."

Harry fidgeted. He wasn't prepared for Remus to go full parental on him. If anything, he expected the man to understand. The accusations rang clear. Remus knew something was up and he wasn't going to let go. "It's nothing Remus, just a bit of herbal extract that I was able to mix up. Takes the edge off more than anything."

Remus eyes widened in alarm. "What is it? Is it a potion? You know you shouldn't be abusing potion ingredients like that, there are all kinds of side-effects."

"Its entirely muggle Remus, there is nothing magical about it. Muggles grow it in their back gardens all the time. It's Morning Glory extract."

"I'm well aware of what a Morning Glory is. I also know what can be extracted from it. Don't you think a hallucinogen is a bit strong for just 'taking the edge off,' Harry?"

Harry had enough of the questioning, his anger had flared up, Remus didn't know what he was talking about. He was being selfish, but the loss he was feeling was his and his alone. Why would the man begrudge him a little bit of a break?

When Harry didn't respond, Remus thrust his hand out. "Give it to me. Whatever it is you're using. You will not be using it here, not while I have a say in it. I've not lived the life I've had for you to become some fucking waster. I know what happens to people when they abuse things they're not supposed to and I won't watch my only bit of family ruin his life."

That was it, he'd reached his limit - well exceeded it in fact - Harry wasn't going to sit here and take another comment from the man, well intentioned or not. He thrust his hand into his shirt pocket pulling the packet out and threw it in Remus face.

"Don't think that because Sirius is gone you can take his place. Don't think that because my parents are dead that I'm some misplaced bloody orphan. I control my own life, and I will not have you telling me what I'm supposed to do with it."

Remus face twisted into a snarl as the packet hit him in the cheek, Harry had hit a button.

"I'm not trying to take control away from you Harry, but there are better ways than this." He waved the packet in front of his face. "You think I don't know what it's like do you? I've faced loss my entire life. Your parents were my friends too. Your father was like a brother to me, so was Sirius, and they're gone. I have to live with that every day. I will not watch as their only legacy runs himself into the fucking ground."

"I'm not some child that needs leading Remus. The others might need it, but I sure as hell don't -"

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders, he was in his face. Harry could smell the stink of the liquor on his breath. The drink thrown on the floor hadn't been his first this evening. Maybe he wasn't the only one self medicating.

"That's just it Harry, you're a child! And until you're out of Hogwarts and able to make your own decisions legally, I will not let you continue to do this to yourself."

Harry knocked the older mans hands off his shoulder. There was a bit of resistance but he could tell Remus let it happen.

"I don't need you, or anyone else telling me what to do. If we're done with this talk, I have other shit to do."

Without waiting for Remus to speak further, he turned and stomped from the room.

His anger didn't leave him until he was upstairs, comfortably resting on the bed they'd put up for him in Ron's room. Harry's stomping and scuffling as he made his way through the dark did little to disturb the slumbering figure. He forced himself to meditate, sitting on the edge of the bed, refusing to let the older man's words continue to get to him.

He was being selfish, he knew, but sadness and emptiness were not feelings he was accustomed to.

He threw his arms back, head landing on the lumpy pillow and he exhaled all the air from his lungs trying to force the tension from his body through sheer determination. Even as his lungs started to protest at the lack of air, he didn't stop until he felt it was all out.

Ron's room was on the highest floor in the Burrow - only the ghoul in the attic could be said to be higher. Harry allowed his eyes to close, his breathing having settled to a more rhythmic pattern.

Above him the ghoul moaned and rattled its chains, and behind his closed eyes the night sky was plain for him to see. Pinpricks of light danced in the distance, and like a tidal wave the energy of the evening swelled within him.

There was no more air to force from his lungs, his first deep breath was more hiccup than smooth inhalation. He tried to muffle the gasp and then the sob that wracked his body. He pulled the pillow over his face, blind to the beauty of the world. He let the waves carry him out into the deep, and only then did he allow himself to cry.

If Ron heard him last night, he didn't say anything as they passed each other. Harry made himself some toast before he'd pushed himself out the front door, exploring the boundaries of his new prison.

He was being harsh to think that. The Burrow had always been a place of fond memories and pleasant summers. It was his first taste of freedom outside of Hogwarts. This was why his confinement felt so sharp - it dug into his skin.

Harry was up early, picking his way through the front pasture of the Weasley household. Remus had taken his most recent batch. His body itched for more.

That was why he was outside at this god forsaken hour. The dense fog was his only shield from prying eyes. He'd provided Remus with a feint the previous night by giving him what was in his shirt pocket. He didn't expect the man to go looking for the rest.

It was with hushed motions earlier that morning that he had pulled a new packet from the bottom of his trunk. The thin brown wafers taunted him in the dim morning light as he rested his back against the trunk of a large tree.

The grass was dewy, and the fog had a taste to it - the coppery notes across the back of his mouth told him there was rain in the forecast.

He'd come out here to be away from everyone. There was no doubt that his fight with Remus had circulated through the household. He'd not cared at the time, but he realized that it opened himself up to even more questions.

He couldn't bring himself to look anyone in the eye. He didn't need their pity or their sympathy. He could handle this on his own.

Talking to the packet in his hand, Harry pulled one out.

"Well, old friend, it looks like it's just me and you."

He placed it on his tongue and let the bitter relief course into the back of his throat. The pungent taste woke him in a way that a longs night's rest couldn't.

Harry settled his back against the tree as the whisper of water in the leaves brought news of the rain and let himself slide away.

It was that way in which someone found him. Their footsteps, however tenderly they tried to step, let him know that someone approached.

His eyes still closed, he greeted them.

"Good morning. I didn't think anyone would find me out here."

"It helps that I wasn't looking for you."

The voice was unfamiliar to him. He really didn't want to open his eyes. It would stunt the visions around him, but it was only polite.

It was still foggy, and the rain which had begun earlier was a slight drizzle.

Before him stood Luna Lovegood, her hair damp and hanging. Her wand was tucked behind her ear like always.

"Luna." Harry patted the ground beside him. "Come sit. Join me."

If Luna was surprised at his invitation she didn't show it. Harry knew that she was a little odd, so the usual mannerisms he used to read people weren't going to help him here. There was no hesitation in her movements as she sat down, crossing her legs indian style beside him.

Harry deliberated a bit before deciding to speak. He knew that if he wanted to, he could say nothing and everything would be alright - there was something about her that just invited conversation.

"What brings you out so early?" he asked.

"I walk this way every morning. It's the best place to find Nargles."

Harry took her comment in stride, nodding his head. "Did you find any?"

"Yes, actually. You're quite infested with them."

Harry hadn't noticed it before, but she carried a little tote bag against her hip. The strap blended in with the lose fabrics of her cloak. He didn't know what Nargles were, and he didn't really care.

The first wave had hit him, quickly, and he was fighting against the current so he could continue to be present with her.

"Here," she said, placing something in his hand.

The smell of greenery, of earth tickling his nose as he fingered the dandelion chain in his hand.

"Wear it on your head, like a crown. It will help you with your infestation."

Harry placing it on his head. Although her actions were peculiar, he didn't allow them to define the moment. He was comfortable. There was something about sitting here, with Luna, under the tree in the rain that he felt he'd been looking for. Peace.

Peace was always fleeting.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I'm not much for conversation." He let the wave carry him out as her response drifted out to him, a whisper on a cool breeze. He couldn't fight it any longer.

"There's no need to apologize. Words are just words, and sometimes they're not meant to be spoken."

Tension left his body. As it did he sank back into the bark of the tree trying to become one with the tree. He wanted to absorb this moment and remember it forever.

His eyes closed, his breathing calm. He let himself float away.

Falling asleep had been an accident. He must have been more fatigued than he thought from the previous night. But when Harry awoke, Luna wasn't there any longer, and she'd taken the rain with her.

The air was moist, thick. It pressed against his face like too many blankets. He pulled himself to his feet as tiny sunburst tickled at the edge of his vision.

It must be mid-afternoon at least.

He resigned himself to making it back to the Burrow. He could only imagine what awaited him there. Especially if no one had thought to go check to see if he was in his bed.

It was a little surprising when he made it to the kitchen of the Burrow to find Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were sitting at the table.

"Good morning, dear. I hope we didn't bother you. I was just doing a bit of cleaning."

Harry didn't say anything, letting the woman make her own conclusions.

"You weren't the only one that stayed up late last night, so you're not the only one that had a bit of a lie in."

"May I have something to eat?" Harry asked, looking everywhere but at Hermione. The look she gave Harry let him know that she wasn't as oblivious as Molly Weasley.

"Of course dear, you don't have to ask! Please, help yourself to whatever you might find."

He escaped from the room. Hermione's scrutiny followed him like a bad smell. He quickly grabbed some bread and a nice yellow cheese before he made his way into the sitting room. There was nobody there. Despite the mugginess outside, a fire crackled in the fireplace.

Harry ate his first meal of the day with little enthusiasm. He wasn't really hungry, but he understood the benefits of keeping his body nourished. With so many people introduced into his life, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. At the Dursley's his routine had become rote. He'd wake up, he'd eat something small, and then he'd spend the rest of the day out in the garden. When the heat became unbearable, he allowed himself to go back inside and he began reading some of his course books.

He didn't feel like he could do that here without drawing too much attention, especially if Remus was going to be making regular visits. Harry could only imagine what Dumbledore had the werewolf doing, but with their recent spat he knew that the man would make sure to come check on him - looking to see if Harry had relapsed.

His meal was nearly finished and Harry was contemplating taking his second dose for the day. And like he was summoned, the fireplace flared up and Remus Lupin stomped out dusting ash off his robe sleeve.

He took one look around the room and his eyes landed on Harry.

Harry could see the man visibly shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunched. Harry could agree with the sentiment, he wasn't ready for another altercation like last night.

"Harry." And Remus didn't linger longer, he made his way into the kitchen, where Harry could hear Molly exclaim loudly, "Remus Lupin, you sit yourself down right now and let me feed you."

Whatever he said in response was nothing but a low grumble, the sound not managing the travel its way into the sitting room. What did find him however was Hermione.

He tensed, checking all exits to see if he could make it look like he was just leaving, but with the way he was sitting any movement would appear awkward.

Harry settled back into the sofa, letting the cushions protect him from Hermione's penetrating gaze. Hermione was never one to let awkwardness deter her, which was why she placed herself on the foot stool directly in front of him - or so Harry imagined.

"'lo Hermione."

"Don't you hello me Mister. We heard everything last night. Just know you will not be doing _that_ at Hogwarts, not under my watch."

"Never one to mince words are you, eh, Hermione?"

"I don't see how you can be so casual about your _drug abuse."_ The way she said the words was like a hiss between her teeth, which sounded similar to a deflating car tyre.

"It's not a drug Hermione. It's completely herbal. And I'm not on it anymore, Remus took it from me. You can stop worrying."

Harry didn't tell her about the packet he had in his sock right now. He jiggled his shoe to comfort himself that it was still there. Why was everyone on about him doing drugs? This wasn't a drug. It was found in nature for Merlin's sake.

He didn't let his frustrations show on his face. He knew that in her own way Hermione was trying to show that she cared. It seemed that by telling her that Remus knew and had taken control of the situation it had further deflated her argument.

"Oh…" She let the silence linger a bit more. Obviously she'd prepared herself for the same as Remus had encountered the night before.

"Oh Harry, you know I care about you right? I don't mean to gang up on you - and… and you know that if you needed to talk to anyone you can come to me. You don't have to keep it all inside."

"I know, Hermione. I've wondered about a lot of things in my life, but you caring, I have no doubt. But could we please just give it a rest? I want to spend time with my friends - and I don't need to be minded."

Harry's words cause Hermione to throw herself at him, her arms wrapping around him into a tight hug. Her hair buried his face and made it hard to breath.

Her touch ignited a feeling in his stomach. It was similar to how he had felt with Luna that morning, but still different. With Hermione nearly laying on top of him, he could think little about the situation. Maybe something to contemplate later?

There was a knock, which caused Hermione to jump off Harry like a scalded cat. Crookshanks would have been impressed. Ron stood in the doorway, his face befuddled.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Harry could tell he struggled to ask even that.

"No mate, Hermione was just giving me a bit of a talking to. We're all settled now. How about a game of chess?"

Harry knew not to let the situation linger. Ron was terrible with his words, and whatever it was between him and Hermione, Harry felt that it was best not to intrude.

It took a minute for Harry's words to sink into Ron's confusion. After a while, he shrugged and nodded his head yes.

"I'm white. You set the table, okay? I've got to get changed. Moody is taking us in groups to Diagon Alley to get supplies. He said that you, Hermione, Ginny, and Mum were next. That man's a bloody nightmare."

Ron didn't wait for Harry to acknowledge his words, as Harry had already started setting up the board for their game. He knew that he was playing a loser's game, but if it kept things civil then he was willing to do it. Besides, he could use the company of his two best friends.

Harry had played several games of chess with Ron by the time that Moody walked into the house and demanded they all make ready. Ron had given him a muttered "good luck," before clearing away the board and packing up.

The trip was uneventful. Whatever Mad-eye had expected never came to pass. He and Hermione had waffled about a bit in the book store as he took more suggestions from books to keep him occupied. He'd made the mistake of telling her that he'd enjoyed reading his coursebooks while doing their summer coursework.

The way they were rushed from place to place by Moody and Molly as chaperone meant that Harry didn't really have much time to take in the atmosphere of the alley.

Before they'd left, he'd snuck an extra dose in preparation for being around so many people, but when they'd gotten on the alley, it was nearly deserted.

When Moody had decided it was time to go, the sun had begun to set over the rooftops of Diagon Alley. Their arrival and departure from the Alley was just as tedious.

When he was finally able to drag himself through the fireplace at the Burrow after so many redirections he lost count, Harry was more than tired. He didn't need to speak to anyone, heading directly for his bed instead.

Ron was already in his own so Harry made considerable effort to not wake him up. His second day at the Burrow had been more peaceful than he had expected. Just as he was about to be lulled into a deep slumber, he heard Ron shift on his bed over to his right.

"I like her, you know."

Harry respected Ron enough to not pretend confusion. "I know."

"This afternoon?"

"That was nothing more than her comforting me."

"Alright."

Ron let the silence drag.

"I heard you. Last night."

"Yes, I'm certain everyone did. Are you going to judge me too?"

"I don't mean with Remus, and no. You're my friend, Harry. My best friend."

Harry's confusion is momentary, but then the realization dawns on him.

"I meant in here," said Ron.

His face tingles a bit as the blood drains away. He feels hollow.

Harry falters for the words to defend himself.

"You're my best friend Harry, and I know I can't change things that have already happened, but just know, I'm here mate. You don't have to do it alone."

Harry decided not to speak at all. What could he say. Instead he steadies his breathing and feigns sleep in the hope that Ron would get the message and go to sleep.

Eventually he did.


	3. KOD

Hogwarts was _his_ home.

There would never be any other place like it. It stood as the figurehead of his very identity. Without Hogwarts, there would be no magic, and without magic, he'd still be the beaten down little boy that could be found in the cupboard on Privet Drive.

His musings had brought him to a complete stop. His hands falling away from the smooth stone of the walls. It took him a fair few seconds to recognize where exactly he was, but once he did, he reached up to tickle the iconic pear that would grant him access to the Hogwarts Kitchens. The smell of freshly baked bread kicked him in the face. The little scurrying creatures that clustered around him even while he only had his first foot in the door made him smile. Each of them vied for his attentions, but he only had eyes for one.

Dobby pushed himself to the front of the group. "Is there being anything Dobby can do for the Great Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry smiled at the elf's antics, he swore that he saw him throw an elbow to reach the front of the line.

"Just a bit of toast please." After a moment's pause,he continued. "And a bit extra if you can, I'm going to walk around the lake and I want to have something for the squid."

The elves barely acknowledged his request but in seconds he was being ushered out the portrait hole with a basket full of toast and condiments to go on it. Dobby managed to stuff a full english breakfast in there, complete with a mini-cauldron of baked beans.

"Sir looks like he could use a fattening up," Dobby said when Harry protested the amount of food he had been given.

Harry found himself out on the grounds proper, he'd managed to skirt the Great Hall with its early murmurs of conversation quite easily. There was no one entering or exiting.

In the distance loomed the Forbidden Forest, a great smudge of darkness on the horizon. Just against the forest edge, he could see Hagrid making his morning rounds outside his hut, and smoke eased itself from the man's chimney, Harry thought to go visit the gentle giant later - for now he was content to be by himself.

His morning dose was kicking in properly, so even in the dim light, he could see clearly. The edges of the leaves in the trees' vibrated with their own light. He could count each blade of grass as his feet wandered the well manicured lawn. The distance birds in the forest chimed their morning calls, but to his ears they sounded like a shout. His first act after getting settled at Hogwarts had been to find him a quiet patch in one of the many gardens decorating the school's vast landscape.

It took little effort to find one of the rarely used ones, a rose garden built in tribute to some long past headmaster, and Harry had scratched out his own patch of land to plant his seeds.

His walk took him there first so he could check in on them to make sure that they were taking well to the rich soil of the castle grounds. The climate was different, but he was certain that by the time winter reared its head he would have a decent harvest.

Morning Glories were a proud but needy plant. The delicate vine made neat work of creeping up the old wooden trellis with nothing but friction and leaves for hand holds. The tender care he'd given them was already bearing fruit. The delicately fluted necks of the vivid blue flowers arched toward the first bit of sunlight as it crept through the outer hedge wall of the garden.

Harry smiled. It was hard to believe these little guys were not magical, their creeping moves suggested a sentience akin to the most exotic plants that could be found in the greenhouses. They responded to his attentions positively, little fingers of thin vine pulling away from the trellis to wrap around his thumb as he took care of them - a gentle caress and then he pulled away. Their disappointment visible in the little shudder they gave when he broke contact.

Harry let the thought of the plants' sentience fall from his mind. He assumed it was because of the innate magic of Hogwarts that they reacted the way they did. Muggles things refused to work around the grounds of the castle, and he assumed that non-magical plants also fell into that category as well. It was something to focus on later.

A finely cast aguamenti slaked their thirst as his hands moved with a practiced motion. He picked wilted bits and deadheaded spent blooms from along the creeping vine.

One of the vines gently caressed his finger as he pulled back from them.

A small stone bench with room enough for two people sat at the edge of the garden. The shade of the wall kept it cool to the touch. It provided an excellent vantage point from which he could watch as the blooms shook the extra water off.

Beneath him, a colorful gingham-patterned blanket was spread out. It had been pushed into the bottom of the basket that Dobby had given Harry this morning. With the blanket fully spread, the food he'd placed to the side walked itself onto the blanket in a neat arrangement before he could place the first item himself. All of his favorites were within easy reaching distance. It was quite the feast for just one person - maybe even more than one person.

His hunger had already been well satisfied when Luna broke easily into the inner sanctum that the hedgerow provided him with. He was already deep in meditation so he made no movement to acknowledge her presence.

This was routine.

She'd find him like this each morning without fault. He'd been wary at first, but Luna was a friend. And, thinking back to the few times they'd met outside the Burrow, he couldn't help but feel she understood.

The ease in which he found himself accepting her presence was frightening. Her saving grace was that she didn't fight for his attention. She appeared content to simply be.

Sure, they talked, but often, not a single word passed between them. They were content to just enjoy one another's company; such was the quality of their relationship.

Her bottle cap necklace jingled as their hands grazed against each other. The small touches they shared oozed comfort and the distance between was measured in millimetres. He could hear creatures moves within the Forbidden Forest as she made herself comfortable next to him.

All of this Harry saw without his eyes.

His body was in the garden, but his mind stretched far above, lost in the throes of euphoria. With meditation came the solitude that he so desired, leaving his body deaf to the world.

And with that deafness came a clarity, his mind freed to reach the small crevices on the edge of awareness and take hold. He saw without seeing the lazy ripples the squid made as it swam in the depths and the soft pitter-patter of the threstrals as they grazed along the forest edge. The back of his neck tingled with the flutter of wings as owls came to roost in the Owlery, their hoots reverberating in the silence of dawn.

He was unfettered, without limitations and obstacles. Freedom, _true_ freedom.

Patches of the landscape shimmered as little elves acted as groundskeepers, tidying up loose leaves and fallen tree limbs. He could only follow their progress through their wake, as they moved with a speed that was not easily observable - even his fully extended mind struggled to comprehend it.

Narrowing his focus, he came back to his own body. Harry watched as golden dust that could only be his magic swirled around him, driven by its own breeze. Like pollen, it crystallized on the small stamens of the morning glories - he watched them drink it up like water. As it coursed through them, the vines settled as if content.

Luna had not been inactive during his vacancy. She'd made her own meal out of the extras of his breakfast. A bit of egg, sausage, and jam spread between two pieces of toast. The dust danced around her as well, he could feel it in every pore of her skin, her senses became his.

He could tell she was enjoying the show. Her eyes alight with a knowledge that wasn't there before. Her mouth moved mechanically as it chewed the food. She was happy, content. She was full.

Harry watched as she placed the rest of her half-eaten sandwich on the delicate china plate. She looked around her, taking in everything keenly.

Her childish moniker given to her by the rest of the students was strangely apt in moments like these. It was rare that a person could sit in silence, ignored really, without saying something. It was something else for them to have their senses overwhelmed and for them to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Her body welcomed him.

Distant echoes came from the direction of the castle. As students migrated from the Great Hall, and out into the courtyards to enjoy the sunshine. Footsteps pitter-pattered across stone worn smooth with time.

Harry's time was coming to an end. He'd have to go back soon, otherwise Hermione would take it upon herself to come find him. He didn't mind the girl's company, but he didn't want the questions.

Harry opened his eyes with a sigh. His tranquility breached, he made eye contact with Luna for the first time that morning. He thought he could see sadness in her eyes. But in a flash it was gone.

The sun had risen to a place of prominence, its beams leaving a moist trail of sweat down the small of his back. He stood, stretching, and turned to Luna.

"Would you like to walk with me?" Harry asked.

He didn't wait for her to answer, already knowing what she'd say.

The blanket folded itself neatly and crawled back into the basket Dobby had given him, the various left over food items also made their way in on top of it, he would make sure to return it to the kitchens later. With one hand wrapped around the handle, and the other gently clasping at Luna's, Harry moved onward towards the lake.

His pace wasn't rushed but they made good time. By the time Luna decided to speak, they'd already made it to the backside of the lake, the castles reflection distorted in the wavering ripples of the water.

"What's here, Harry?"

Harry ignored the thrill the sound of her voice caused him. There was an intense pleasure hearing her say his name.

"I come here to feed the squid. I remember when we first came across the lake, a bunch of first years fell off and it carried them to the shore. I also come for the view."

Harry heard her hum in acknowledgement. She'd taken the basket from him and pulled out the remaining toast. She busied herself with letting pieces of it float from the shore line.

He felt like he needed to say more, to justify further what should be obvious. "I remember the first time I ever saw the castle, and it was from the lake. Its…" he paused, trying to think of the right word.

"Magical?" she supplied for him.

"Yeah." Harry said. He couldn't stop the grin from forming. The inanity of Magic lent itself to such a simple description. It covered everything and more.

A tentacle quickly broke the surface of the lake pulling the floating bits of bread under like a ship at sea. The squid took the time to articulate its tentacle to wrap completely around the piece of bread.

Harry joined Luna at the lakes edge, breaking his own bits of bread into the water. He flicked one through the air like a fanged frisbee. It cut through the air, and landed much further any of the pieces had yet floated.

More tentacles broke the surface, grabbing at the scattered bread. Far more than should be normal. Harry marveled again at the word _magic._ Because it couldn't be anything else.

"They're beautiful, you know. Moments like these."

Luna's words were barely above a whisper, but Harry heard them clearly. He saw how her eyes were focused out across the lake. He didn't need to look where she did, because he'd seen the same thing every morning since arriving.

Hogwarts was beautiful in the sense that only old architecture could be. It was easy to marvel at the archways, the gargoyles, and the glass in the windows as they glimmered with sunshine. Decadence, age and mystery combined to give Hogwarts an elegant history.

"I know. " Harry said.

His eyes were not on the castle, but on the girl in front of him. The sunlight shimmered off her pale hair, and highlighted her complexion. His eyes moved further down her body only then noticing that she lacked an outer robe. Her dress was made of a see through material draping from the curves of her body.

The angle in which he stood and the sheer material showcased that she wore nothing underneath.

Harry's throat was dry as a desert. Hormones where a hell of a thing to deal with, but hormones while high were a different story. His self-control faltered momentarily as he allowed himself to take in her entire form.

He struggled to form his next words, the dryness in his throat having became a serious problem. Clearing it brought her attention back to him, and he felt his cheeks flush.

"You should join me on one of my evening walks. Hogwarts is much more beautiful at night."

The fabric moved with her body as she turned fully to face him. The chill from the lake's edge accentuating the peaks of her breasts.

Harry swallowed hard. If Luna was aware of what she was doing to him, she gave no hint.

"I think I'd like that."

His eyes roamed the girl in front of him with hyper focus, not missing a detail. He blinked to stop himself. He was better than this, he knew. Harry turned his head away from her to further preserve her modesty and to save himself from further embarrassment.

"I think we should head back to the castle now," Harry said making sure he was only looking at her face. He imagined he'd make quite the sight to anyone else that might be observing.

Harry made a promise to himself to be more appreciative of their time together in the future, but for now, he needed to get back to the castle before Hermione sent a search party.

He waved his wand easily, and conjured a loose overcoat that he draped over her shoulders. Harry offered his hand to her and she took it without hesitation.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Harry decided to not take a walk the following morning after the entrance he and Luna had made. There had been a mixture of amusement and scorn on the face of many that had congregated in the Entrance Hall. Harry paid no mind to it, passing through like one of the many house ghost - there and then gone.

He'd left Luna at the entrance to the Ravenclaw dorms. She'd given him a kiss on the cheek as thanks, and handed him another dandelion chain.

"For the Nargles," she'd said.

He'd pocketed it and not thought about it further. Hermione was itching to speak to him by the time he'd settled in the dorm room. Rumors had apparently circulated that he'd walked Luna through the entrance hall with an outer robe, and nothing underneath.

He'd did his best to belay those fears, but hadn't told her the real details. He'd only mentioned walk in the gardens, and that he'd met her along the way. Nothing more, nothing less.

Hermione's look had been suspicious and unbelieving, but Ron had saved him from further questioning by inviting him to a game of chess.

The rest of the day had progressed much the same. Idle rumors circled the common room as the other years trickled in and shared stories of their summer.

Eventually Harry had to beg off another game with Ron. He needed to stretch his legs. Hermione snapped a book closed to the right of Ron causing him to jump.

"Come Ronald, we've got a Prefect's meeting to attend. The Head Boy and Head Girl are assigning rotations, and I don't want to be late."

The look Ron gave him as he stood was pleading. All Harry could do was shrug his shoulders, pulling himself to his feet. His chair was comfortable and he hated to leave it.

"Well, you guys have fun with that. I think I'm gonna turn in early tonight. Our first Defence class is tomorrow and I'm sure I'm going to have to prepare myself for all of Snape's smugness."

Hermione didn't even look up from where she packed her books away. "Professor Snape, Harry. I'm sure it will be fine. He's the most knowledgeable Defense instructor we've ever had."

"Probably because he sleeps with Dark Arts books under his pillow at night, the greasy bastard," Ron made sure to say.

Harry didn't hear anything more than Hermione's exclamation of "Ron!" before the portrait hole swung shut completely.

He'd stood waiting for them to leave at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the dorms. Harry had given them a bit of a half-wave, but he doubted they had seen it, as they were already consumed by their back and forth bickering.

None of his year mates were in the common room currently. Despite Hermione's protest it was still rather early in the evening, and the others had yet to trickle in from their clubs and their socializing. He had some time by himself. That was good. Harry hated all the eyes on him - he couldn't even sit in the common room without feeling someone's gaze digging into his back. It was tiresome.

He'd established himself as a recluse more this year than any other. Opting not to rise to the bait of other students despite their best efforts. The Morning Glories helped, if he hadn't been dosing on a regular basis, he didn't think he would have the same story to tell.

His footsteps creaked on old floor boards of the boys dorm, he'd thrown his trunk wide and was digging for his supply for the night. He felt a pang as he realized that his packet was rapidly emptying out. He regretted ever having given his other to Remus. He had some seeds, he would just need to plant more.

Just now, he needed a moment to himself. He would worry about that later.

He whispered an unlocking spell on the dormitory windows, and eased himself out onto the battlements. There was a narrow ledge outside his year groups level of the tower that was just big enough for him to sit on.

Harry had never been one to be afraid of heights. As he stared off into the certain death that was the ground, he let one of the wafers dissolve on his tongue.

This high up, the wind whipped at his cloak, causing it to crack as it struck against his skin. If he had been a lesser person, then he might feel fear - instead, it served only to make his heart beat faster as he was carried off into sweet oblivion.

He was at peace.

Weeks passed and in Harry's fugue state it was over in the blink of an eye. The first snow weighed heavy on the ground. He'd continued his morning walks until the frost had started to freeze his feet to the ground. The cold was bleak and unforgiving in contrast to the muggy heat of summer and autumn. It hadn't managed to dampen his mood, he'd persevered through sheer force of will and liberal self-medication.

He'd set himself a goal, and that was to learn all the mysteries of Hogwarts. There were still so many rooms that he'd never even thought to visit and that was _with_ the aid of the Marauders Map.

There was a corridor on the second floor, just off the Headmaster's office in which, if you clapped your hands three times, the suits of armor adorning long stretch of hallway would do the electric slide.

He'd brought Ron here, but the humor had been lost on the boy. He would have to bring Hermione next time.

This time his destination was the far end of the Third Floor corridor. He steps were hurried, because he only had so much time. He turned to the right and his feet passed over the trap door that Fluffy had protected what seemed like eons ago. He wasn't here for the secrets that Fluffy created.

Instead, he made a hard pivot on his heel, the rubber of his shoe scraping the stone floor. He unfocused his eyes because the secret required that you didn't look directly at it.

He threw his hand out, grasping at the wall, and instead of more stone, his hand came in contact with a rough iron handle. The metal dug into his hand as he gave it a twist, breaking the rust loose. His eyes, now in focus, took in the aged wood of the door.

Heat blasted him in the face, enough to take his breath away. Mist filled the hallway as the cool air of the corridor condensed against the heat escaping the room.

In one far corner of the room was a workbench with trowel and gloves and a hat for him to wear. In another corner was a small copse of walnut trees, and all around the edges of the room were hedges.

Planters cut the room into smaller segments, creating rows for him to walk down and inspect the various plants as they dripped over the edges of the large stone troughs.

The air smelled green, and there was a hint of fresh dragon manure as well. Before he could wonder just who had been tending to this beautiful room, he was given his answer.

The gloves and trowel on the workbench jumped into the air, and busily started tending the plants closest to it.

Harry hummed to himself as he walked through the room. It had taken a lot of trial and error for him to get the correct sequence of steps to gain access to this room.

The complexity implied that he'd found something out of the ordinary - Hermione would lose her mind over the slice of summer time he'd found at the center of Hogwarts.

Harry could feel the creator's love in the room from the longevity and craftsmanship of the enchantments. The plant selection and the harmony in which they were all able to exist in such a space.

He breathed deep letting the moist earth, the heat, and the floral perfume permeating the air fill his lungs.

This was perfect.

It was several days later, and Harry had fully moved himself into the small eden he'd found within the walls of Hogwarts. He was elbow deep in a basin of water, washing the grime and muck from his fingers. He refreshed himself by drinking some of the clean cold water from an ever full picther that rested on the workbench.

Since he'd started coming to the room, it had made itself known. He was grateful to whatever magic had brought it, because he was scorched.

He flicked his hands dry and turned around, only to jump back startled. Luna Lovegood stared back at him, her eyes overly wide, as if she herself was startled.

"Luna!," Harry said, his voice raised. He wasn't surprised if he was honest with himself. Despite having not told her where he'd been going, she always seemed to be able to find him. His tone coming more from the abrupt way in which she'd appeared. He'd been caught up in everything and had let his surroundings get away from him.

He'd have to work on that.

"Good Morning, Harry. I brought you breakfast." Luna's voice was vacant, Harry could see her eyes roaming the room taking everything in. He saw her gaze rest on the flowers.

"They're lovely."

Harry agreed. "Yes, they're lovely. I thought this room was quite the find. Have you been here before?" He probed, trying to unravel the manner in which she'd made her discovery.

"No. I was led here." she said.

"Led here?" Harry asked, more out of habit than a true desire for an answer. Harry watched her as she ran her hands around the dirty edge of the planters. She stopped, rubbing some of the grit between her fingers, but it didn't look like she would answer now.

Harry decided any further questions could wait until after he'd ate. The smells of the food in her kerchief making his stomach gurgle.

He took the offered napkin full of toast and bits of sausage and egg that Luna had brought him, and placed it on a clean spot on the workbench and with his other hand he transfigured some debris from the floor into a rustic table and chair set for two.

She had wandered further into the room, her back was to him when Harry cleared his throat causing her to turn to his voice. Her eyes brightened as she eagerly took a seat across from him.

Harry was happy to note that she was better dressed than their last couple of encounters. This early in the morning, he didn't know if he could handle how freely she shared her body with him.

At least until he was able to get another dose in him. That had been his whole purpose of coming here this morning. A small pile of seeds weighed heavy in his pocket, where he'd placed them after harvest.

He debated whether he should work on them now, or if he should wait until Luna left.

Harry had been making more of an effort to communicate with the girl. He found that he liked her perspective on things, she was able to turn the most mundane aspects of a day into the most interesting stories.

Her tales of fantastical creatures a sharp counterpoint to the rote memorization and regurgitation of fact that Hermione was prone to.

Harry decided he would eat first, as his stomach gurgled. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

Luna busied herself with emptying her pockets while he made short work of the food she'd brought him. A copy of the Quibbler, her father's newspaper, was slapped on to the table along with some butterbeer caps, and what Harry was certain was Every Flavor Beans. Their hard candy coating shimmered in the false sunlight of the room.

Finally, she stopped moving, and pulled the paper up to her face. Harry noticed it was upside down. He decided he wouldn't ask, and shoved the last bite of sausage into his mouth with a content sigh.

"Comfortable?" He asked her when he'd finished chewing.

Her paper ruffled as she looked at him over top of it. "Yes, quite."

"Should I ask how you were able to find me? I just discovered this room myself." Amusement colored his tone.

She folded her newspaper and placed it delicately on the table and thrummed her hands over top of it.

"Your wrack-spurts are a sure give away. All I had to do was follow the trail they left behind you." Luna said, as if her answer was explaining how the sky got its colour.

"And the door?" Harry asked. "It took me a week of testing to get my pace right and my eyes to cross just so."

"It was standing open." If Harry cared his face might have turned red. Instead, he threw his head back and let out a deep belly laugh. A room was only secret if the occupant didn't leave it ajar.

She stared at him, eyes unblinking. Harry sobered himself. Clearly the humor was lost on her.

"What's your favorite? I'm partial to the bearded fellows over there." He said, gesturing at a grouping of sapphire and white flowers. Their two-tone pattern made them look like old men sitting hunched on a pier.

Instead of answering, Luna got up from the table and walked to the edge of the room. She bent down and plucked something from within and brought it back to him. She'd worked it into one of her trademark bracelets. Small pink blooms were mixed with a clover shaped leafy plant. She placed it on his wrist.

"Raskovnik." The urge to say 'bless you,' bubbled to his lips; but was saved from making a corny joke when she continued speaking.

"I was quite surprised to find it in here. I've only ever seen it out with my father when we go Snorkack hunting. The Druids say that they're supposed to unlock or uncover anything that is locked or closed."

Druids were a small sect of wizards that communed with the nature spirits located throughout the wizarding world. They'd learned about them in History of Magic in between all the Goblin Wars.

"Odd choice," said Harry.

"Yes, but with you, they're appropriate. I feel like their abilities lend themselves to discovering the true depths of a soul. I want to know more about you."

Her words made him feel awkward, and he couldn't say why. There was something about her that attracted him, a moth to flame. It wasn't that he was afraid of getting burnt, he'd felt these feelings before.

He remembered Cho with her tears, but in the same thought he'd remembered Cedric. The boys lifeless eyes after a blinding flash of green spell light. A small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He shook his head as if that would force the thought from his mind. He tried not to dwell on such things, because with one, came the other. A screenplay of all the people he'd lost already.

He busied himself with cleaning up his workbench. Harvest would be ready soon. He'd almost cleared the last bits of leaf and dirt away when Luna decided to speak.

"Will you remember me, Harry?"

Her voice cut through the buzzing in his head. There was a clarity that all other sounds lacked. Even more so when he was like this.

He brought his eyes to her, trying to get his galleon sized pupils to focus on in on her. Her form seemed ephemeral, transparent, and he was afraid to speak, as if the movement from his breath would cause her to float away.

"Of course, Luna. How could I ever forget you?" He was stalling. He could tell she wasn't fooled.

"I only wonder, Harry Potter, because we do the same thing every day. I sit and read the _Quibbler,_ and you mess with your plants or your thoughts. You're consumed by them, and I don't want you to forget me."

Her words confused him. Her tone wavered like she was uncertain. Harry was hyper aware of everything going on between them right now - but he didn't know how to react. He gaped like a fish out of water, struggling to find the words to defend his actions.

Their encounters flashed through his mind's eye. There was one common element. He'd been so caught up in his own feelings and thoughts that he never realized it, niggling at the edge of every encounter.

She cared for him. He'd seen it in the looks she'd given him when she thought he wasn't looking. He'd felt it in his very body when his mind had touched against hers. His hand fingered one of the clover bracelets he kept on his wrist at all times to remind him of their slices of serenity, giving him strength.

He'd forgotten that attraction could go both ways. He'd lived in his head for long enough that he'd forgotten about everything else in his mindless pursuit of absolution.

It had been staring him in the face this entire time, Luna was giving him a respite from the endless race he found himself in, if only for a moment he could just be himself. He was attracted to her, yes, and he knew he wanted more. He needed it. He was selfish, and he only hoped that she could forgive him.

Harry let his shoulders relax, a tension ebbing from his body that had crept through him. He closed the distance between them in a single stride, and he placed her hands on her shoulders. He'd missed when she'd stood up.

He'd lost himself again in the depths of his own thoughts.

Harry pulled the shorter girl up close to him leaning in, and allowed himself to breath deeply of her scent. Luna startled, tense and wooden under his hands.

He knew he was being forward, he usually invited contact with him, letting her make her mind up. Harry was afraid to lead, or rather, afraid he didn't know how to lead. He lacked confidence in his own ability to make a move.

He didn't know if he could handle rejection. This, here and now, was entirely alien to him. His past experiences with a girl doing little to prepare him.

"I could never forget you," he whispered softly into the crook of her neck, his voice warm with unspoken emotion. He'd never realized how delicate her form was. He was short, but she was shorter still and he had to stoop a little to fully embrace her... What should he do next? Hundreds of thoughts flashed through his mind. There was a hint of cherries on her breath, and her lips shimmered, reflecting the light above.

 _Well, you're here. Do something about it._

His own mind mocked him, goading him into action. He pulled back from her slightly. She'd eased into his grasp allowing her body to mold to his. His words had served to ease her own tensions. Her eyes were closed and her mouth moved, but no words came.. She was just as starved as he for touch.

He let his hands glide down her arms until he held her hands in his own. He hoped the dampness was from the water pitcher where he'd washed his hands earlier and not from sweat.

He was nervous. Seconds stretched, or at least they seemed to.

Harry leaned forward before she could open her eyes, placing his lips on hers.

His kiss was tender, but her lips were even softer. Where she'd been wooden before, Luna showed no hesitation in reciprocating. She kissed him back, her ferocity a sharp contrast to his timidity.

She stopped, pulling back from him then.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

Harry had never been more certain of something in his entire life. He made to move back in to kiss her, and Luna stopped him, placing her fingers on his lips.

"I need an answer."

"Of course I'm sure, Luna. I've been so confused these past weeks, but there is one thing I'm certain of. You're what I want." Harry said.

He could see the desire in her own eyes. His answer had pleased her. He pressed in again, his kiss more determined, and let himself go in the softness of her lips and the softness of her skin. Behind them the gloves and trowel continued to tend the plants, his plans for the room postponed until the future.

Morning announcements had been made and a new professor had been introduced. He would be replacing Snape as head of Slytherin house and taking over his potions curriculum. Snape, as it turned out, would be getting his dream job. He would be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts.

They'd been without a professor, and Dumbledore had postponed the classes until he could find someone suitable to fill in. Harry had wondered briefly why the old wizard hadn't just taught it himself like he had in the past.

The school was on fire with rumors of Dumbledore's reasoning. Others were taking bets as to how long Snape would last as the Defense Professor, giving the positions previous track-record.

 _Horace Slughorn._ Harry only remembered the man's name because he'd had potions first thing, and the man had simpered around Harry, more concerned with trying to impress upon him his vast connections and the fact that he knew his mother than the lesson he had on the blackboard.

Harry had worked diligently, managing to produce a decent result. He assumed all the practice he'd had this summer had really helped him, as well as taking the time to read his books.

While it didn't give him the innate knowledge of how to do everything, his recall was much improved allowing him to know what to expect. Like many things, the color shifts of the potions and the subtle hints they gave had began to click with Harry in a way they never had before.

He was no prodigy, but he felt that he would have a lot better luck going forward.

His next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wasn't thrilled to be certain, even high he could barely bring himself to acknowledge Snape as a human being. But he let his good mood temper him.

He'd followed the trickle of stragglers through the doorway into the Defense classroom. The atmosphere matched its professor, that was for certain. The walls adorned with horrific depictions of the Dark Arts, not a single whisper from the other students as they all took their seats.

Harry found a seat near the back, hoping the distance from the professor and the students in between would give him a buffer from the man's scorn.

There was a lectern at the front of the room, and nothing else. Harry mused for a moment at the various incarnations of this room he'd seen over the years. He had to give Snape credit, he'd rather stare at _The Inferius_ than those putrid kittens that Umbridge had the year before.

He shuttered involuntarily at the thought.

Harry kept his eyes locked on the man at the front of the room. They had text books, but he'd not even brought his book bag to the classroom. He felt like there would be little use for it. His wand was tucked neatly into his sleeve.

Snapes wand rapping on the lectern brought the rest of the classes attention to him, his authority and position being the only words he needed to assure their attention.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe." Snape said. His voice echoed in every corner despite being only a little above a whisper.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."

Harry watched as Snape allowed himself to move from behind the lectern to pace about the room.

"I expect your obedience and for you to do exactly what I say. I know that for most of you that is too much to ask for," Harry could feel the man's eyes on him, "But if you don't try you will be out of this class post-haste. I will have no foolishness in this classroom. You will learn. Now stand."

The silence in the wake of his words was oppressive. It pressed into Harry's ears, a dull buzzing sound. Snape had come to a standstill, his body still as a corpse and his eyes roaming the faces staring back at him. Harry knew this because the man's eyes circled back to his own.

Harry flirted with defiance, but eventually he averted his own eyes, not wanting to invite any more aggression from the man than necessary.

When they eyes broke, Snape turned in a billow of black robes so his back faced the class. Harry watched at the man reached into his robes for his wand, the others must have saw this as well because they stood as one. Harry could taste the nervousness in the air. He readied his wand in his own hand, letting it fall snuggly into his palm from its resting place in his sleeve.

He let his shoulders relax, he twisted his neck to limber himself up. A vertebrae popped with a satisfying crack that sounded obscene in the quite classroom. Harry let the magic of Hogwarts, and those around him seep into his bones. He made their fears, their doubts his own, and discarded them. He was ready. In the transition between Potions and DADA he'd slipped a wafer under his tongue. Its fully effects kicking in now, after all of Snape's grandstanding.

A silent wave of Snape's wand and all the desk in the classroom stacked neatly against the far wall. To Harry the man's movements were a study in efficiency. He fought hard to keep focused, but the boundaries of his mind were frayed, his consciousness began to seep through.

The room with all the students felt claustrophobic. Harry loosened his tie to help himself breath better, his forehead wreathed in sweat. Being at the back no one else paid him any attention, the other students had clustered closer to their professor was speaking again.

Harry focused on the man's lips, using his words to ground himself in the present.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts ahead even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Harry liked this speech better than the one he'd received during his first year. The man's words dripped with passion on the subject. The wizard spoke like he was describing an old lover, intimately familiar.

Harry could read the man like an open book, in this moment there were no secrets. While he couldn't hear Snape's thoughts, hidden behind iron-clad walls of his occlumency, the mans movements spoke volumes. He was enjoying himself. He had the complete attention of everyone in the room, they hung onto his every word, committing it firmly to memory.

Harry struggled to reign himself back in as Snape started speaking again. "… you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

With the mans question, time progressed rapidly. Active participation made it easier for Harry to stay engaged. He didn't know the name of the boy he'd been made to partner with, he was a Hufflepuff and that was all that mattered.

Harry waited his turn as the boys face turned red, constipated even, as he tried to force his wand to do what he wanted without speaking.

Non-verbal magic was something Harry had read about over the summer. He knew it was possible and he knew the theory. Snape wouldn't be the only Professor to place emphasis on silent casting. Older students had confirmed for him that Flitwick and McGonagall would also be teaching silent casting.

If he was honest, he'd been doing it successfully before today's first class, this was just proof of concept. The trick was visualization and intent.

He could feel Snape's eyes, and even Hermione's on him from across the room as he executed the spells each time with very little issue. He'd struggled for a moment, at first, but after the magic had flowed freely. He had no intention of giving Snape a reason to bait him. He was above the mans pettiness. Above all of them.

His partners face had went from tomato to prune, when finally a small fizzle had shot from the end of his wand - a bit of light and that was it and then nothing.

Harry flicked his wand, the motion well practiced now and the boys wand was now in his own hand. They'd been practicing _expelliarmus._

The ease in which Harry performed the spell annoyed the boy, as it had the past six times he'd been successful. Harry hadn't said a word, thinking maybe his partner was taking longer than most to figure it out. Others in the room were at least having some success after thirty minutes of effort.

Harry let the boy struggle again, and when it came his time he decided to give some advice. "It helps if you don't force it." He said, as the boys wand placed itself in his hand.

"Easy for you to say, Potter. We're not all as magically talented as _The Chosen One._ " The boys sarcasm was evident even to Harry.

"Have confidence. This is the first time I've ever cast the spell silently. You need to know that when you cast the spell it will work. Your movements stink of doubt." Harry levitated the boys wand over to him this time instead of walking it back.

At the boys incredulous look, Harry continued. "Magic comes to those that ask. You're already half-way there. Are you a wizard or not? I'll even attack you this time, you think that will work? Sometimes people perform better under pressure.

Harry hoped that by goading him the boy could overcome this blockage. Snape wouldn't let them practice any other spells until both of them were able to cast the spell silently. He was getting bored, and when he got bored, it wasn't good for anyone.

Harry let his wand hang loosely down by his side. Before he'd been twirling it through his fingers idly to pass the time, but he was ready for some activity. Snape be damned. He watched as the boy steadied himself, but realized that he wasn't going to make the first move. He need some motivation. _Maybe fire?_ Harry thought as he flicked his wand up.

His spell was just as silent as the others. He watched as the boys eyes widened. A patch of stone to the right of him burst with a bit of flame. There was no fuel to sustain it and in the end all there was heat and some smoke.

The boys eyes widened.

"Are you trying to set me on fire?" His steady hand belied the nervous quaver in his voice.

"Consider this motivation," Harry said. The hint of a smile on this face.

He went to cast the spell again and this time his partner was ready. Before he could even flick his wand down the boy let out a grunt. And like magic, the spell worked.

Harry clapped his empty hands, congratulating him. "I knew you could do it! Well done."

The Hufflepuffs face didn't reflect the excitement that Harry felt. The dark presence at his shoulder might have been the cause, but Harry wasn't certain.

Snape stood behind him, his face locked in the rictus of what appeared to be as scowl. Harry couldn't tell.

"Professor?" Harry asked.

"Detention Potter. What. Did. I. Say? His words whistled through tightly clenched teeth. "I said that you were to practice only the _expelliarmus._ In what way did you interpret that as it being okay to cast fire spells in _my_ classroom."

The man's tone did little to affect Harry's mood, he was riding an excellent high. He was concerned at the state of the man's yellowed teeth, however. Much more pressure and he was sure they'd crack. He'd helped the boy, and even if his methods were unconventional he wasn't going to defend himself to Snape. He'd been criticised by better people.

It was all the better that Harry didn't' say anything. Even about his teeth. It would have served only to further antagonize the Defense Professor and the wilting Hufflepuff across from him couldn't take much more scrutiny from the Professor.

As before, the man stalked through the pairings of students correcting their forms. Harry noticed he was less engaged, and his criticisms less helpful and more hurtful.

Harry walked over to his partner and clapped him on the back. "Don't let dark and greasy over there worry you too much. You did great." Harry put his hand out, "I don't think I got your name?"

The boys eyes widened, confusion evident on his face. "Ernie Macmillan." He said slowly, as if explaining something complicated. "We've had classes together for the past six years. You know who I am."

Harry shrugged, "Sorry Ernie. I'm human after all." Ernie openly gaped at him. Harry couldn't quite understand why. People forget names all the time. It's not like he talked to the boy every day.

Class had ended, and students were leaving the class in droves. Harry made to join them, catching Hermione's eye - she moved to walk beside him. Before he could get out the door, Snape hand shot out to firmly grasp his shoulder. "Your detention will be with me tonight. You'll meet me in my office. Do not be late."

"Of course Professor." Harry made a mental note, his mind already jumping to conclusions. If Harry was a betting man, he was certain that the man had ulterior motives when assigning him a detention.

He turned to Hermione, shrugging the mans hard grip from his shoulder like it was an offending piece of clothing. "Lunch? I'm starving."

They were further down the corridor when Hermione decided to speak. "Do you think it wise to provoke a Professor that way Harry? Not only that, but Professor Snape?" If Harry was honest he cared little. But he could hear the concern in Hermione's voice.

"I thought it was appropriate. Besides, I don't think he cares. He didn't even take points. I'm sure that my detention is cover. For what? I don't know."

"I don't know if I like your attitude Harry. Are you certain you're okay? You've been awful distant with Ron and I lately. We've barely even spoke. Where have you been?" Her voice was prying. And she was asking questions that Harry didn't want to answer.

His mind had already shifted gears, his lips remembering the kiss he shared with Luna's earlier. He was certain his smile didn't help Hermione's concern any further.

"It'll be fine Hermione. What's he going to do? Kill me? He'll just have to wait in line."

Their path had brought them into the Entrance Hall. The Great Hall doors stood open invitingly. His earlier enthusiasm for food had diminished in Hermione's pursuit of answers. What he hadn't said spoke volumes.

 _I'm avoiding you because I don't want you to tattle on me. I know you're concerned but there are some things I just need to deal with on my own. And having you as my minder is not what I need right now._

He'd broken away from her, cutting a path up the stairs. Hermione had stopped at the entrance way to the Great Hall. Her face had crumpled for but a moment, but Harry saw it. Etched into his mind, to haunt him later when things like that mattered.

He felt guilty.


	4. Clouds Never Get Old

Harry had busied himself with completing his backlog of homework. He'd put a lot of things to the back-burner recently. The only reason he was working now was because the Transfiguration Essay on _Transmutation of Complex Substances_ was due tomorrow, and Professor McGonagall accepted no late work.

Already his facade was unraveling. Hermione and Ron had noticed all the times he'd been early to rise and late to bed. If he had to make excuses for late assignments, that could be the nail in the proverbial coffin. He could tell it weighed heavy on Hermione, Ron was different, never giving any indication he noticed, and always inviting him to games of chess.

He needed to prepare himself for when it all came crashing down, it was inevitable. The only only thing he could do was mitigate.

Even with those thoughts clouding his mind, he finished his essay with a flourish. He didn't think that his revisions during the summer had been all that inspired, but it had served to give him a foundation in which he could better answer things. Practicals, if anything, were easier than they'd ever been. It was only in moments like this that he had to actively engage his mind for the task at hand.

Harry check the time, and then started packing up his books and papers he'd scattered across their work table. Hermione had yet to return from dinner, so Ron had setup on the other side of his table when he'd entered, and busied himself with pretending to study. Harry had seen him nod off more than once. As he passed, he gave Ron a pat on the shoulder, which prompted the boy to speak.

"Don't let that bastard bother you, mate, just do your detention and come back. We'll be here." Rons words, if anything, made the growing tension in his shoulders grow. Harry knew that the boy was only trying to console him, but words only went so far.

Glibly, Harry replied, "Yeah, it'll be fine. I'm sure I'll just be scrubbing cauldrons. No worries." Internally, he regretted the steps that had brought him here. Antagonizing Snape should be at the bottom of his list of 'Things to do while High.'

His steps carried him swiftly into the dungeons and soon he stood outside the door to Snape's office. He could feel the cool walls against his face, and could hear his footsteps resonate in the distance despite no longer moving. He took a deep breath to bolster his resolve before knocking on the door.

On the second knocked the seal was broken, the door opened fully; Harry peered into the room looking for its steward, but seeing no one. He stepped fully into the room, not waiting for an invitation and let his eyes roam the walls. Jars of pickled animal parts, and dust adorned both sides of the room, a spartan desk against the far wall, with only a single chair in front. Behind it, was the man himself, hunched over and scribbling furiously on a stack of parchments.

"Sit." Snape said, never once looking up from his markings.

The straight back chair in front of the desk looked ominous, when Harry eased himself into it, he fully expected so manner of restraints to appear and hold him in place. Snape had yet to acknowledge him besides his softly spoken command. Harry let the scratching of the quill lull him into serenity, losing track of time, until he noticed that finally the scratching had stopped.

He focused his gaze then, on the man in front of him, whose gaze bore into him, coal black eyes inscrutable. Harry knew better than to hold his gaze for long, so he quickly broke his eyes away from him instead let his eyes roam over the mantle of the fireplace directly behind him. The only illumination in the office came from the fireplace, but Harry could just make out the silhouette of picture frames.

Snape standing abruptly startled Harry from his thoughts of what the pictures could contain, again, the silence between them again allowing his mind to wander.

He didn't walk, so much, as he stalked. Even in the confines of his own office the man couldn't stop the forceful gait he kept when walking the halls and corridors of Hogwarts. He stopped at a recessed shelf in one of the walls of the office, having escaped Harry's earlier scan of the room.

The sound of a cabinet opening and closing and liquid being poured into crystal filled the small space of the office. "Was he fixing himself a drink?" Harry thought. It was an absurd thought, but was quickly proven true the man sat himself back behind the desk, drink in hand.

Harry met him eye to eye then, fearless. "What is this about." he thought, and as if a dam had broke, Snape spoke, his voice sibilant.

"Loathe as I am to entertain the yappings fo dogs, Potter, Lupin has expressed some concerns."

Harry didn't react. His mind already racing to conclusions. Snape opened a drawer on his right, pulling something from within, and threw it across the desk. The waxy white exterior of the packet caught Harry's eye as it landed in front of him.

"Yours, I believe," Snape stated rather than ask as he shut the drawer with a hard push. Harry fought the urge to check his shirt pocket to see if he was missing something. He didn't want to give the man any clues, not realizing he was already caught.

"I've examined the substance within. Imagine my surprise at what I discovered."

Harry made no attempt to respond. He knew better; the same excuses that worked on Remus, Ron and Hermione would not work on the pit of apathy and anger that sat across from him.

"Clearly Dumbledore's faith in you is misplaced, Potter. I can't wait to disappoint him."

Harry warred with himself then, Sanpes words had wiggled themselves deeply into his mind. If he took the bait, it would only be playing into Snape's hand. He resolved himself to remaining silent.

"Nothing to say for yourself? I can't pretend I'm surprised, Potter. You're nothing but an addle brained, simpering child. Every bit as spoiled and entitled as your father. I should have known you would do something as foolish as this."

Harry lost his struggle then, and made to speak. But was stopped when Snape slammed his hand down on the desk. " _You will listen."_ Snape had stood to his feet, and Harry had joined him; the straight back chair knocked to the floor behind him.

Harry could feel the malice that radiated off the man's words, setting his teeth on edging. He caught himself before he could reach for his wand. Snape had read his intent, and the mans face dared him to take a chance. Harry knew it would be a fool's gambit.

"Did you consider the disastrous implications of mixing intoxicants with spellwork? Your stupidity has truly reached new heights—- if just for once you had listened to a single one of my lessons you'd know the reasons a wizard would never willingingly alter their inhibitions or their mind."

"Your point, sir?" Harry asked, his voice neutral. He wanted this to be over with, he had more things to do than listen to the ravings of someone that had never once had a nice thing to say about himself or his father.

Faster than Harry could blink, Snape was on him. The man had made it around his desk with supernatural ease, and had grabbed him tightly around the collar, his hand wrapped in the gold and yellow of his tie. His eyes were wide with madness.

"Dumbledore thinks he's protecting you. But he's not. He's making you weak. You stink of incompetence." Snape said, his voice low. Harry struggled against the mans grip, but he used his age and size to its full advantage — he gave his struggle up and detached himself from the moment. The mans breath stank, but Harry didn't care, his mind already far away.

"You had a chance to be something, but you choose to do this. You're not worth the time Dumbeldore spends on you. You are nothing."

Harry could tell the moment the fight left him. Shoulders slumped and his tightly wound fist letting go of his tie; Harry's feet touched against the rough stone of the floor tand he struggled for balance.

Snape moved away from Harry, back to his chair behind his desk, where he fell into it.

"This is all much too late. I'm wasting my breath, your damnation be on your own head. I wash my hands you and Dumbledore."

Harry watched the man's frantic energy seep into the floor around him. A caricature, set in stark relief of the glowing fireplace. Snape picked his glass up and downed his drink in one smooth motion.

"Leave."

Harry turned to leave then, not knowing what he'd just witnessed. If he was honest, the mans words stung his pride, but saying anything would be tantamount to suicide. Who was he to judge, after all? He had his own demons, that much was evident in the bits and pieces he'd gleaned from Sirius and Remus the year before — a death eater, a spy, and an absolute bastard.

He'd nearly reached the door when Snape's voice calling out gave him pause. Hand on the knob, he didn't turn back to face the man, only listened to his words.

"Your days are numbered Potter, and when the time comes, I hope I can be there to see the look on your face. Dumbledore is dying, and I'm going to enjoy every moment of watching you struggle. Hide all you want, but the truth will find you."

Harry's heart fluttered then, a bone chilling panic seeping from every pore. He wrenched the door open, and fled into the hall, Snapes laugh following him as he feet slapped against the stone, with only one direction on his mind.

—

Harry's cloak slapped against his legs as he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, similar to, but not quite imitating Snape. He'd calmed his frantic flight from the mans office once he breached the archway leading from the Dungeons into the Great Hall, but that didn't mean that his heart had calmed or his thoughts had settled.

Snapes words echoed through his head, his last parting statement crafted so finely as to slip past any armour and wound. Harry felt it, like a bleeding ulcer in his gut, reality was closing in, and he could almost make out its eyes —they looked the same as when he and Snape had been face to face. Crazed, ugly, and unforgiving.

Despite that, Harry refused to believe that Dumbledore was dying. The man was immutable, a piece on the board as old as time itself. He'd been there for the first war, and Harry had always assumed he would be there for the end of the second.

Harry's steps brought him to the second floor corridor, the familiar gargoyle statue stood there, waiting for him. As Harry walked up to it, it moved aside, like it had been waiting for him. His thoughts had calmed now, a reality of his own making had overlayed itself before him. Dumbledore wasn't dying. Snape was lying. When he stepped into the office at the top of the spiraling stairwell, the white haired old man he'd come to view as family would be there, unharmed and unchanged.

The door was closed when he came to it, but before he could knock, a raspy voice greeted him.

"Enter, Harry."

His calm facade cracked, if only for second. Harry ran his sweaty hands across the front of his robes in search of peace, but he remembered it now, sitting on Snape's desk three floors down. There was no going back. He was here.

He solidered himself forward and pushed the door open. Afraid of what he might see.

The Headmaster's office was the same. Gadgets and trinkets sat in their places, glimmering with untold purpose. Fawkes rested on his perch behind the old man before him, his head nestled under a wing — he was asleep.

One look at Dumbledore was all it took for Harry's calm facade to crack. The golden permanence that had graced his vision since he'd started using was still there, it was something that stuck with him even in sobriety. The air around Dumbledore was fetid and stank of despair. The light from the dim lamps throughout the room doing little to bring the shining luster of his white hair or the twinkle to his eyes.

Harry felt his heartbeat steadily increase, as his panic grew again. His eyes landed but for a moment on the old man's decaying arm. Nausea and horror swept through Harry, making his knees weak.

Dumbledore took pity on him then, and gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat." His voice was hoarse, tired.

Harry fell into the offered chair, his carefully crafted reality crashing around him. He struggled to find the words to speak, all the while, Dumbledore's gaze cut right through him, understanding flashed for a moment on the old mans face, but he didn't speak.

Harry finally found his voice. " I — " he changed gear. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what, my boy?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were dying?"

"Ah." Dumbledore said. Harry watched his eyes glance above his head, knowing there was a clock on the wall. "You've just came from your detention with Professor Snape. I hope there was no lasting damage to my school?

Harry snorted. "Only my ego. I'm sure Snape will recover."

Harry's anger seeped from his feet and into the floor where he'd kept his feet firmly placed. He was nervous to speak, because it wasn't his place to demand answers of Dumbledore, the man had always been the stern father figure he never had, directing him in the ways that he didn't know how.

He felt a brief moment of embarrassment at that.

Dumbledore gestured to a chair in front of his desk.

"Take a seat, my boy."

Harry did, complying to hide himself from further embarrassment.

"Tell me Harry," began Dumbledore, " Do you remember when I came to you this summer and asked you for your help in recruiting our newest professor, Mr. Slughorn?"

"No."

"And why do you think that is?"

Harry felt offended. What was he implying? If he'd been to Privet Drive this summer, he would have remembered that for certain. He'd driven himself crazy at first, hoping for anything to do, for any bits of information.

He tried not to sound confused. "I've not seen you since last year, when we were in your office…  
" he paused, "after Sirius." Harry hated himself that even now he couldn't stop the bubble from forming in the back of his throat.

He needed to better control of himself, he wasn't some grade schooler with no composure.

"Ah." said the old wizard in front of him. "Then let me elaborate."

—

The next hour was the most grueling and illuminating conversation Harry had ever had with Dumbeldore. The man was never one to share his secrets so easily, and every bit of information that Harry gleaned was hard won, and pried from the old mans hands.

He learned quickly that demanding got him nothing. The residual anger he felt with Snape was now dead and done. He would never forgive the man for being who he was, but he better understood his motivations.

It had been startling for him to realize how sober he was currently, as Dumbeldore shifted some of the weight he'd been carrying onto Harry's shoulders.

Voldemort, or Tom Riddles school days.

Horcruxes.

The Ring.

Dumbledore's eventual death.

Magic was beautiful, endless, and outright terrifying. The things that it could do, and that Harry didn't know anything about. Harry had always likened the glimmer in Dumbeldore's eye as amusement. He knew now that it was the weight of time, of hard decisions, and long nights as he outlived everyone around him, while trying his best to foster them into a new era.

Harry knew that he wasn't being told everything. But he'd went in not expecting to be told anything. Dumbledore had said, "I've been remiss in my duties as your mentor and instructor. You deserve to know more than you do, but you've got to act with the responsibility and impetus that I've placed before you this night, Harry."

It was sobering. Literally and figuratively. Chemical induced calm had long erased itself from the canals of Harry's brain. He felt turbulent, adrift in a sea of information that was threatinging to consume him.

The task Dumbledore laid before him felt insurmountable. How was he supposed to do this? Even with help? It was too much to ask of Ron and Hermione. They were the best friends he ever had, but there was no way he could tell them.

Dumbledore, atleast, had been operating on the same thought pattern. "I would wait to bring your friends in on this Harry. Until you've fully understood everything. I know you've been struggling with the death Sirius, but its time that you grew up. I don't have the time left to nurture your curiosity like I once did."

"But I can't do this by myself, sir."

"I don't expect you to my boy. When I'm gone, you will have the full support of the Order, as well as your friends, in confidence. I've been making choices likes these for longer than you've been a thought in most people's minds."

When the clock above the old man struck two a.m, Dumbledore released a large sigh. Harry had sunk down in his seat a far as the cushioning would allow him. He was pissed at himself for his prior actions, running around and acting the fool.

Maybe this was what he'd been looking for all along? A purpose, that one moment in his life, the bit of direction he'd been missing.

If he was a different person, he'd throw himself to the library and not come out until he was a master of all magics, but Harry knew that he had no such timeline to become even competent. While he had power, he lacked the drive Hermione had to research new spells, but for now he could settle with making his promise to Dumbledore come to fruition. He would see to the old wizards legacy.

As Harry walked down the spiral staircase outside of Dumbledore's office, Harry came to a realization. He'd end Voldemort's reign. He would slay the wizard that had caused him such pain, of that he was certain.

His fingers flicked at the small packet of wafers in his pocket, but he didn't take one.

He needed the centering pain and turmoil of being sober to keep his thoughts focused.


End file.
